


5 Things about You

by theauthorish



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 20:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: It's when he reaches for the fridge to pull out last night's leftovers for breakfast that he sees it: a note stuck to the door of the freezer with one of their few magnets.It reads, 5 Things Kuroo Tetsurou Knows about Yaku Morisuke.





	1. 5 Things Kuroo Tetsurou Knows about Yaku Morisuke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnguishofMyLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnguishofMyLove/gifts).



> This is for Ria! Thank you so much for the support and the prompt. This is my first time doing KuroYaku, so I hope you like it!

Morisuke wakes up on the first day in December with a bad taste in his mouth-- literally and figuratively. 

 

The literal is easy to understand-- he’d forgotten to brush his teeth the night before and even without that he has  _ awful  _ morning breath.

 

But the figurative is because as soon as he comes to his senses, he registers that the apartment is entirely quiet-- devoid of the usual soft noise of the news Kuroo likes to put on in the morning and the sounds of him bustling around the kitchen, cooking breakfast like always… Which means he hadn't returned last night at all.

 

Morisuke is far from worried. He knows Kuroo is smart enough not to get himself murdered or beaten up or something equally terrifying, and it's more than likely that his roommate is at Kenma’s or Bokuto’s instead. He does, however, feel guilty; the only reason Kuroo wasn't here at all was because of that fight they’d had last night.

 

Truth be told, Morisuke doesn't even remember what they’d been arguing about-- something stupid, no doubt. All he knows is that it had devolved into a shouting match, and at some point or other, Kuroo had stormed off after Morisuke had accused him of not knowing Morisuke as well as he should have.

 

He hates it. He hates it when he gets that way-- when all his stress coalesces into something almost tangible, something frantic and clawing in his chest, desperate for release. It's when he's that way that he says things he doesn't mean, lashes out at all the wrong people. The only thing he can do about it now is apologize, really.

 

He finds his phone on his bedside table, draws up Kuroo’s number and types out,  _ I'm sorry _ , then sends it off. Simple. Direct. 

 

He doesn't receive a reply, although surely Kuroo is up already. That's fine. Morisuke probably deserves that.

 

He stands, goes through the motions of his daily routine. He brushes his teeth, takes a shower, gets dressed, then heads out to the kitchen where he sets a kettle of water boiling… And it's when he reaches for the fridge to pull out last night's leftovers for breakfast that he sees it: a note stuck to the door of the freezer with one of their few magnets.

 

It reads,  _ 5 Things Kuroo Tetsurou Knows about Yaku Morisuke _ .

 

Morisuke can't help but huff out a laugh. It's as good as forgiveness, he knows (though he  _ doesn't  _ know how Kuroo got in and out so silently, nor why he didn't stick around. Not that it matters, in the long run).

 

/////

 

**One: He likes tea rather than coffee first thing in the morning, and a cup of warm milk before bed.**

 

/////

 

The first day after they’ve moved in, Morisuke wakes up to the smell of breakfast. He ambles out, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and somehow, Kuroo is already halfway through cooking.

 

“How long’ve you been up?” Morisuke yawns.

 

Kuroo doesn't turn to face him. “About an hour? Watched the news for a bit before I started on the food.”

 

Morisuke snorts. “News first thing? You really are an old man,” he says, shuffling out of the hall and into the living room. 

 

“It’s good to know what's happening in the world, Yakkun,” calls Kuroo, his voice accompanied by the soft ticks of the knob on the stove as he shuts it off, soon followed by the clatter of plates onto the counter. “Also, I made you a mug of coffee. It's on the dining table.”

 

“Oh.” Morisuke hates coffee, actually, but he isn't sure how to say so without being rude. “Thanks.”

 

“What's that face for?”

 

“What?” 

 

He finds Kuroo looking at him this time from over the counter, raising an eyebrow. “Your brow’s all furrowed. Is something wrong?”

 

Morisuke sighs. It's probably best to tell him now anyway. “I can't stand coffee,” he admits. He picks up the warm mug, holds it in his hands and allows the heat to seep into his fingertips for a bit before he sets it down on the counter. He smiles apologetically. “Sorry.”

 

Kuroo blinks, and then his expression turns sheepish, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Ah, no. It's my bad for not asking first, Yakkun.”

 

Morisuke flaps a hand in dismissal. Now that he finally feels awake enough to move around like a human being instead of shuffling around like a zombie, he joins Kuroo in the kitchen so he can help bring the food out to the table.

 

“So what do you want to drink?” Kuroo asks.

 

“Is there still hot water in the kettle?”

 

Kuroo hums. “Yeah, a bit.”

 

“Tea, please.”

 

Kuroo nods, fishing around in the cupboards for their green tea. “Tea in the morning, Yakkun? So traditional,” he teases, as he finds it and the tea strainer, and then pulls out a teacup.

 

“Oh shush, you old man.” Morisuke finishes setting out the dishes, so he returns to the kitchen. “Here, I'll handle it. You can eat ahead,” he says.

 

Kuroo elbows him away. “Nah. I’ll do it. D’you mind switching off the TV?”

 

/////

 

Later that night, they're getting ready for bed when Morisuke remembers he hasn't had his milk yet.

 

“Where are you going?” Kuroo asks, eyes wide in puzzlement as he watches the libero abruptly turn away from his own bedroom door and march towards the kitchen.

 

He's too sleepy to bother with a full sentence-- it had been a _very_ long day-- so he only says, “Milk,” as an explanation.

 

There's a beat of silence, then Kuroo busts out cackling. Morisuke feels a vein in his forehead twitch in irritation, but he can't find enough of it to make him say more than one word. “ _ What _ .”

 

“You’re like a little kid, Yakkun, so cute,” Kuroo coos, from where he's hunched over by his door, clutching at his stomach from how hard he’s laughing. It's not that funny, Morisuke thinks, fighting back a pout. That would only serve to prove Kuroo’s point, which is the last thing he wants. “I mean, a warm glass of milk? And your pajamas are all big on you too… you look just like a little child who’s stayed up past his bedtime.”

 

“No,” Morisuke grunts, as he stirs the milk in its pot.

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _ No _ .”

 

“All right, fine. Whatever. Goodnight.”

 

Morisuke mumbles something-- he isn't sure what, but Kuroo takes it as an answer, apparently, because soon after, there's the sound of a door opening and closing.

 

/////

 

The next day, there's a cup of tea waiting for him when he wakes up, waiting on the dining table for him to drink.

 

/////

 

In the evening, before Morisuke even thinks to do it himself, Kuroo’s already handing him a gently steaming mug of milk. Of course, it comes with the obligatory, “You do know you won't grow anymore, right Yakkun? So if this is for that--”

 

Morisuke cuts him off with a punch to the gut, but he's smiling, touched by the gesture. “Bastard, let's see if you grow anymore after I bury you six feet deep.”

 

Kuroo chuckles, and then he heads off to bed.

 

/////

 

**Two: He makes sure to talk to his (our) old kouhai at least once a month.**

 

/////

 

“-an you hear me now, Yaku-san?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah that's better.” Morisuke adjusts his earphones so the microphone bit sits closer to his mouth. “How are you Lev?”

 

“I’m good!!!” Morisuke can't see him, but he can just about picture the blinding grin on Lev’s face. He kinda misses seeing it in person, not that he’ll ever admit to it. “I’m getting better at receives, Yaku-san, even Kenma said so!”

 

Morisuke lets a little disbelief seep into his tone when he replies, “Uh huh. We'll see about that next time we meet up.”

 

“Yaku-san, why don't you believe meeeeee,” Lev whines. Morisuke smiles despite himself.

 

“Don't think I’ve forgotten how you used to run away from our receiving practice, Lev.”

 

“I said I was sorry!”

 

Behind Morisuke, there are footsteps, and then the warmth of a body pressed up behind him. Kuroo’s head comes to rest on Morisuke’s shoulder, the taller man hunching over to accomplish this. It must be uncomfortable, Morisuke thinks. “Oh, is it our wannabe ace’s turn to talk to you?”

 

On the other end of the line, Lev squawks in protest. “I'm not a  _ wannabe _ ! Kuroo-san!”

 

“Yes,” Morisuke answers. “Shibayama and Inuoka said they’d try to join in later, though.”

 

Kuroo hums. Morisuke can feel the vibrations of it, thanks to how close they are right now. He doesn't mention it-- neither does Kuroo.

 

“What about Yamamoto and Kenma?”

 

Morisuke squints at Kuroo. “Shouldn't  _ you  _ know about Kenma? He’s your childhood friend.”

 

Kuroo shrugs. “Doesn't stop you from talking to him every month. And there's two days until the next one starts, so.” His breath is warm against Morisuke’s ear. It kinda tickles.

 

“Kenma said he had a lot of homework today!” Lev pipes up. Morisuke feels a little bad; he’d almost forgotten the tall oaf was still there. “So he told me to tell you he’d call tomorrow!” There's a pause. “Sorry. I forgot to say so earlier.”

 

Morisuke laughs softly. “It’s fine. Besides, we only started talking like two minutes ago, remember? Because the connection was bad?”

 

“Oh… Yeah, that's true.”

 

They talk a little longer, about all sorts of things. Morisuke berates Lev for skipping out on his homework and neglecting his studies, Lev babbles on about all the funny things Kuroo and Morisuke are missing, and says something along the lines of,  _ everyone misses you third years, you should visit soon! _

 

They promise to do that when they're less busy. Maybe for Golden Week. Shibayama and Inuoka come on about half an hour later, and they fill Kuroo and Morisuke in on more important things like how the team is going, as well as the Battle at the Garbage Dump they have planned for the next weekend.

 

“I bet Kenma is looking forward to that,” Kuroo comments, smirking lazily.

 

“Yeah… I'm glad he found someone that excites him so much,” Morisuke mumbles back.

 

“Me too.”

 

That's when Morisuke realizes that their kouhai have gone quiet. Eerily quiet. “What?” he asks, just a touch defensive.

 

“It’s like you’re our parents, Yaku-san, Kuroo-san,” Lev answers, without hesitation. Inuoka and Shibayama are making frantic shushing noises, but the whole Nekoma team knows that short of physically cutting him off, Haiba Lev is impossible to shut up.

 

Morisuke feels his face bloom into color, and he glares at the wall above his desk, imagining that the lanky first-year-- well, second-year now-- is there instead. “We are not--”

 

“Oh???” Kuroo begins, in that tone that means no good. Morisuke tries to shove a hand into that stupid smarmy grin, but Kuroo dodges out of the way. Before he can make another attempt, Kuroo is leaning even closer, ducking his head so his lips are pressed against Morisuke’s collarbone.

 

Morisuke isn't so blind that he doesn't realize that Kuroo is only doing this to rile both him and their kouhai up-- the fact only proven because of how close he is to the mic. Still, more heat floods his face, and he can't help but notice how soft Kuroo’s lips are, if a little chapped.

 

He wonders why he doesn't just shove Kuroo off.

 

“Kuroo-san,” Lev starts, unsurely. “What are you--”

 

“Are we  _ married _ now, Yakkun?” Kuroo rumbles, in a voice far lower than normal. Morisuke isn't sure if the way his stomach turns is because it sounds weird, or because he likes it. He resolves not to think too hard on it. “You should have told me…” He nips at Morisuke’s skin, draws a yelp from his mouth.

 

Morisuke glares. “Okay, that's enough,” he growls, shoving Kuroo’s dumb face away. 

 

He bursts out laughing-- his terrible hyena laugh, of course-- and manages to gasp out, “But-- Yakkun! We have to consummate it!”

 

Their kouhai squeak, and Morisuke quickly bids them goodbye before hanging up.  _ Ignore Kuroo. He's an idiot _ , he types into their group chat.

 

And then he’s off to chase Kuroo down.

 

/////

 

**Three: He cannot hold his liquor. At all. (But for some reason he likes drinking anyway. It's funny, but also a pain in the ass.)**

 

/////

 

Morisuke’s head is spinning when he wakes up on the sofa of all places.

 

“Oh, finally up, Yakkun?” Kuroo says, from… somewhere in his vicinity. Morisuke sure as hell doesn't have the energy or the strength to look for him. He's also fairly sure moving his head even a millimeter is going to incite him to vomit all over their one and only couch, so there's that. He groans in response.

 

Kuroo’s hand grasps his, presses some pills into it. “Aspirin,” he explains, helping him sit up. After Morisuke tosses them in his mouth, Kuroo hands him a tall glass of water, and Morisuke downs it all too.

 

Kuroo takes the empty cup back, and Morisuke flops back down with a miserable noise. “Jeez, Yakkun.” He stands, heading into the kitchen. Morisuke can hear him refilling the glass. “You didn't even drink that much, how are you so hungover?”

 

“Lightweight,” Morisuke croaks. Why he drank as much as he did anyway… he really doesn't know.

 

Kuroo’s next words are wry. “So I figured.” He prods at Morisuke’s hand. “Wanna drink more?”

 

“No thanks.”

 

There's blessed silence for a while. And then Kuroo starts snickering. “I should send Lev that video of you--”

 

“Kuroo, I will murder you in your sleep.”

 

/////

 

He finds out later that Kuroo sends the videos--  _ plural _ \-- to the group chat.

 

He watches them all out of curiosity, since Kuroo hadn't wanted to show him for fear of getting them deleted ( _ rightfully _ , thinks Morisuke). One of them has him slurring through an attempt to describe the perfect receive, waxing poetic like it's his one and only lover (Kuroo’s words, not his). 

 

The next is him clinging onto Kai’s arm like a child would his mother's skirt, swaying on his feet. “Come on, Yakkun, let Kai go so he can go to the restroom,” Kuroo is saying, offscreen somewhere.

 

The drunk Morisuke of the video shakes his head slowly, clutching tighter. “No.”

 

Kai, patient as always, gently pries Morisuke’s hands off him. “It’ll be quick, okay, Yaku? I’ll be back, then you can hold me then.”

 

Morisuke hesitates, but then he allows it. Kuroo is chuckling, cooing about how cute it is, and when Morisuke turns to him with a pout, the camera jostles-- and then Kuroo is walking onscreen, so Morisuke assumes the shaking was from the phone being handed off to someone else. “Here, Yakkun, you can hold me first.”

 

It’s embarrassing how quickly his drunk self lights up, in the video, lacing his fingers with Kuroo’s not even a second later.

 

/////

 

The next one has Morisuke struggling in Bokuto’s arms, kicking and flailing like a child throwing a tantrum. “Yakkun, you can't fight him, come on, it's fine!” Bokuto says.

 

“I gotta! He called me short!”

 

“You kinda are though, Yakkun,” comes Kuroo’s voice.

 

“You! I’ll fight you too!” Morisuke renews his efforts to get free, and Bokuto yelps at the new flurry of attacks.

 

“Are you fucking serious, Kuroo!?” he demands. “I should just let him at ya!”

 

“Don’t you--” Kuroo cuts of with a yell of his own, and the video stops.

 

/////

 

A new message pops up from Kai. 

 

_ Kuroo, you sent those but you left out these? Shame on you, if you must embarrass Yaku, at least have the decency to embarrass yourself as well. _

 

Morisuke frowns. What…?

 

/////

 

In the video Kai’s sent, Morisuke is hugging Kai again, probably after his return from the washroom. Kuroo’s snickering-- again. “Yaku, she was pretty cute, why did you turn her down again?”

 

Drunk Morisuke shakes his head. “Can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

He hums. “‘M married already.” (Present Morisuke sputters at this-- what the  _ fuck _ ?)

 

Kuroo burst out laughing. “Yeah, right, right. I heard you tell her that. Who’s the lucky guy then?”

 

Morisuke tilts his head curiously, looking at where present-Morisuke assumes Kuroo is standing, phone in his hands. “You.”

 

The phone slips from Kuroo’s grasp, and there's a string of curses as it clatters to the floor, followed by a loud guffaw that Morisuke is fairly sure belongs to Bokuto and a soft chuckle from Kai.

 

“I-- Me?” Kuroo stammers, picking up the phone again, letting out a relieved sigh that it's still working.

 

“Mmhm. Remember? We're the team parents.”

 

“O-oh. I… Um!”

 

“Man, Kuroo, you're such a disaster gay!” Bokuto hoots, bounding up to squeeze Morisuke’s shoulders.

 

“Am not!” protests Kuroo, but Morisuke speaks again.

 

“You are,” he says, giggling. “‘S’cute.”

 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Um. You. You're cuter?”

 

Drunk Morisuke laughs even more, burying his face into Bokuto’s arm.

 

Morisuke skips quickly to the next one, pretending not to know how much he’s blushing. He was drunk! He didn't mean that, right?

 

/////

 

There's another video from Kai after that-- gods, just how bad had he been?

 

It starts with Morisuke leaning his head on Kuroo’s shoulder for once. Kuroo’s face is hidden behind his hands, but even in the video, it's visible how red the tips of his ears are. “Yakkun,” he’s mumbling, “You can't just kiss my cheek like that.”

 

“Why not?” As if to spite him, Morisuke lifts his head to peck at Kuroo’s thumb-- which is covering his cheek, obviously. Kuroo makes a strangled noise, and Bokuto hoots in the background.

 

Drunk-Morisuke takes it as encouragement, apparently, because he starts peppering kisses along Kuroo’s hands, and Kuroo doesn't seem inclined to move away, though he keeps muttering that Morisuke should stop.

 

/////

 

_ We’re sharing videos now?  _ Bokuto types in.

 

He sends one of his own before Morisuke can ask him not to.

 

In this one, they're no longer in the bar, walking along the street. Morisuke is clinging to Kuroo’s back, giggling softly about something. Kuroo’s smiling indulgently back at him, soft in ways Morisuke has rarely ever seen him.

 

“They're so in love, aren't they,” Bokuto sighs, flipping the camera to show Kai, for some reason.

 

“Yeah. They’ll figure it out eventually.”

 

The video cuts out.

 

Kuroo is complaining about the betrayal or something, and Morisuke types out a halfhearted threat, but his face feels like it's as hot as the sun itself and he has no clue how to feel about any of this.

 

Him? With Kuroo?

 

Why doesn't he hate the idea?

 

/////

 

**Four: His favorite feeling is being relied on-- especially when it comes to volleyball.**

 

/////

 

“Again!”

 

Across the net, Oikawa narrows his eyes, tosses up the ball… and sends one of his crazy jump serves over-- right towards Morisuke’s waiting arms.

 

He bumps it up with some difficulty, arms stinging and colored an angry red. It winds up going too far from the setter position, and he makes a noise of frustration. “Not yet,” he grumbles, reverting to his original position.

 

“Yaku-chan, aren't you tired? My serves are pretty powerful, it's gotta hurt,” Oikawa calls.

 

“The powerful is the point. If I can return your serves perfectly more often than I don't, you guys will be able to rely on me even when we go up against other strong servers. Then you guys can go all out.”

 

“You sound like that Karasuno libero,” comments Bokuto.

 

“Nishinoya, you mean?”

 

Bokuto nods.

 

“Oh. I guess.” He turns his full attention back to Oikawa. “Again!”

 

Oikawa grins-- a wild, feral thing that would probably send shivers down Morisuke’s spine if he weren't so intently focused on how to receive the ball-- and goes for it.

 

/////

 

Kuroo is slumped in his seat, trying (and largely failing) to keep his eyes open.

 

Morisuke sighs. “Go to sleep, Kuroo. You didn't get any rest last night, did you?”

 

“Group project,” he mumbles, as an explanation. He doesn't move.

 

With a roll of his eyes, Morisuke hauls Kuroo up by the arm, dragging him towards his room. The other man struggles, though somewhat feebly. “I can't, Yakkun, I have class!”

 

“Any tests?”

 

“Well…”

 

“Answer the question, Kuroo.”

 

“No.”

 

Morisuke nods. He’d expected that answer, since midterms had been only a week ago. “Then rest. I’ll text your classmates for you.”

 

Kuroo grumbles something inaudible, but he stops fighting, so Morisuke lets it slide. “Don't worry about it, okay?”

 

Kuroo lets Morisuke guide him into bed, and as he yawns, settling in underneath the covers, he says, softly enough Morisuke isn't sure he’s meant to hear it: “Never do-- you always come through.”

 

Morisuke smiles and shuts the door.

 

/////

 

**Five: He’s a fucking sap and cries at every romance plot ever** .

 

/////

 

“Yakkun, wanna watch La La Land with me?”

 

Morisuke stops scrolling through his twitter feed to narrow his eyes at Kuroo, who’s standing in the doorway of his room, waggling his eyebrows. “Why?”

 

“Why not?” Kuroo retorts. “Come on, you love chick flicks.”

 

Morisuke reaches down, scoops up a dirty sock he’s been too lazy to toss into the hamper, and throws it at Kuroo instead. Kuroo dodges easily, but his face is so offended it's comical. “I do  _ not _ .”

 

“Your Netflix history says otherwise.”

 

Morisuke pinches the bridge if his nose. He must have forgotten to log out on Kuroo’s laptop when they had their last movie night. “I hate you,” he grits out.

 

“You  _ love  _ me,” Kuroo sings back.

 

“I don't.”

 

“We’re  _ married _ , remember?”

 

Morisuke growls, pushing himself to his feet. “Kuroo, they will never find your body.” Because he knows the torment will continue if he doesn't give in (and no other reason, he swears), Morisuke stomps past Kuroo into the living room, where he knows the movie is already set up.

 

There's popcorn sitting on the coffee table, a mug of warm milk for Morisuke and hot chocolate for Kuroo. All of their pillows, cushions, and throw blankets have apparently been relocated to the floor.

 

Morisuke hides his fond smile by curling up in one of the blankets and sitting himself down in front of the couch. He doesn't acknowledge it when Kuroo plops down beside him and slips his arm around his shoulders as he presses play on the movie.

 

/////

 

Morisuke  _ hates  _ Kuroo. It's official. “You fucker!” he cries, beating at Kuroo’s chest. “You should've warned me-- I mean-- what the  _ fuck _ .”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s so sad!”

 

“It’s sweet--”

 

“And sad!” Morisuke scrubs at his eyes, and Kuroo pats his back in consolation, biting his lip in what looks like an attempt not to laugh.

 

Kuroo disengages himself from Morisuke, moving slow and careful as if he's afraid too quick a movement will incite Morisuke to explode. “I’ll just get you some tissue, Yakkun. Wait here.”

 

Morisuke sniffles. He's always so easily affected, and he hates it almost as much as he currently hates Kuroo for making him sit through that. Kuroo comes back a minute later with a box of tissue, which he holds out to Morisuke. Morisuke plucks one and uses it to blow his nose.

 

Kuroo chuckles, but there's no mocking in it for once. “Sorry Yakkun,” he says.

 

Morisuke sighs. “Don't be. It was a good movie, it's just-- I can't believe they didn't end up together. Like… what was the point?” 

 

Kuroo pats his back. “Well, they had different dreams…”

 

“I know! But! Ugh.”

 

Kuroo ruffles his hair, and for whatever reason, Morisuke lets him. “It was that last montage that got you, wasn't it?”

 

Morisuke bobs his head in affirmation. “It’s just. It's one thing if they wouldn't have worked out, but the montage was like--”

 

“Like they would have, if they’d just chosen right,” Kuroo guesses, and Morisuke is glad he doesn't need to say or do anything for Kuroo to know he's right. Kuroo shrugs, one hand absently coming up to stroke through Morisuke’s hair. “Life is just like that, I guess,” he says, and there's an odd weight to his words that Morisuke doesn't know what to do with. He decides not to do anything at all.

 

/////

 

One morning, Kuroo is singing. Morisuke can hardly believe his ears-- Kuroo isn't an outstanding singer (even without knowing the song, Morisuke can tell he’s falling a little flat), but Morisuke doesn't think he's even heard the guy do karaoke.

 

“What are you singing?” he asks, as he pulls out his chair at the table. Kuroo jolts, apparently so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard Morisuke’s approach. 

 

He flushes red. “Ah. It's from a podcast musical? 36 Questions. Uh. That's what it's called, I mean. The musical.”

 

“It sounded nice,” Morisuke says. “Can you keep going?”

 

“Or,” Kuroo counters, setting down the food. “I could grab my phone and play it for you.”

 

Morisuke considers pushing it, but he eventually gives in. Another time, maybe. “Okay. Sure.”

 

/////

 

The song Kuroo plays for him, he learns, is called One Thing, and Morisuke really likes it-- which is how he ends up downloading the rest of the musical to listen to.

 

It's a romance, his favorite, and by the time Act 3 starts, he’s bawling-- it hurts so much, but it's so good?

 

Kuroo walks in on him just as he's finished with it, and though he chuckles when he sees why he's teary-eyed, he wraps his arms around Morisuke while he cries for Jase and Judith.

 

When he feels marginally better, he swears Kuroo to silence, threatening to maim him if he tells a single soul about this. The middle blocker raises his hands in surrender, smiling that crooked smile of his, and Morisuke has to turn away before he does something dumb like kiss it.

  
  



	2. 5 Things Yaku Morisuke Knows about Kuroo Tetsurou

When Tetsurou lets himself back into the apartment long after dinner, Yaku isn't home. There's a note on the dining table that says he's out pulling an all-nighter with some groupmates, and he’ll probably be back the next morning, but that isn't all. Yaku’s left him some food-- his favorite, actually-- and another note. This one reads,  _ 5 Things Yaku Morisuke Knows about Kuroo Tetsurou _ , and Kuroo barks out a laugh. He always had to have the last word, didn't he?

 

He takes the plate of food and warms it up in the microwave before settling down to eat, sliding the list closer so he can read it.

 

/////

 

**One: He checks the locks (at least) three times before bed or he can't sleep.**

 

/////

 

“God, I'm so tired,” Tetsurou grumbles, pushing up from the couch. “This essay can get fucked.”

 

“You say that now, but watch me find you up at three a.m. again just to finish,” Yaku replies, from where he's leaning in the kitchen doorway.

 

Tetsurou sighs. Yaku’s… probably right. “Yeah, well.” He walks to the front door, fiddles with the deadbolt and the lock, and then heads to get a warm drink of his own. It's really cold tonight, gods.

 

As the kettle boils, Yaku watches him as he paces restlessly around the kitchen. His legs ache in a sort of vague way, but he also feels like he has too much energy to remain still. He goes to check the locks again. They're still locked, obviously-- it hasn't even been five minutes since he last checked them, but it's just an urge he has, at night. He needs to be certain, absolutely certain.

 

On his return, Tetsurou finds that Yaku’s squinting at him now, though he continues to withhold comment.

 

Tetsurou fishes around for the tea strainer. “Aren't you heading to bed, Yakkun? Little children can't grow unless they sleep you know, it's scientifically proven--”

 

“Kuroo, I'm tired, so I'm gonna give you  _ now  _ to shut the fuck up before I come over there and make you.”

 

Tetsurou chuckles. “Okay, okay.” 

 

They fall into silence. For a little while, the only other sounds are the soft clink of the tea strainer against the ceramic of the mug as Tetsurou swills it around the cup, and the hum of their old refrigerator. When Tetsurou deems it finished, he pulls out the strainer and leaves it in the sink-- he’ll take care of it tomorrow-- before settling down on the couch to drink.

 

They don't talk even then. They don't need to. The quiet isn't awkward; just nice. Relaxing.

 

Yaku finishes his milk before Tetsurou has drunk half his tea, but the libero waits for him anyhow, placing his mug in the sink, then rejoining Tetsurou on the couch. Tetsurou appreciates the company, though he wonders if he shouldn't shoo Yaku off to bed. It was rather late, after all (or early, as the case may be-- it was one a.m.).

 

Eventually, Tetsurou can't stomach any more and pours the remaining third of his drink down the drain, setting the mug in the sink to wash when he wakes up in the morning. That done, he heads to the front door again. It's… still locked. As expected.

 

“Why do you do that?” Yaku finally asks.

 

Tetsurou shrugs. “Habit. I used to forget a lot when I was little. Parents got mad. Safety and all that, so.”

 

Yaku says nothing in response.

 

/////

 

It happens again and again. No matter how long Tetsurou’s been up, no matter how badly he wants to curl up in bed and sleep, he has to get up every few minutes to double and triple check the locks.

 

Yaku offers, sometimes, to do it instead, but while Tetsurou trusts him unconditionally, he still needs to do it himself, or his mind won't shut up about it. Yaku soon learns that short of his body failing to move, nothing will stop Tetsurou from checking it himself.

 

In the end, Yaku decides to stay up as long as Tetsurou does, just to ensure he doesn't go entirely sleepless. On his more anxious or stressed nights, Yaku stops him from checking much more than five times, holding Tetsurou’s hands in his own and refusing to let go until Tetsurou promises to head to his bedroom and not the front door.

 

/////

 

**Two: People think he’s some sort of thug bc of his smirk and that leather jacket he paid too much for, but he's actually a dork.**

 

/////

 

“Yakkun, he moved me to the very front of the classroom. Right in front of his desk!” Tetsurou complains.

 

Yaku rolls his eyes. “And? I thought you liked being in the front so you can pay attention?”

 

Tetsurou pauses. Yaku remembers him saying that? He thought the libero hadn't been paying him any attention. “Well,” he says. “I do.”

 

“See?”

 

“But he was giving me a dirty look the whole time! Like I'm some sort of troublemaker!”

 

“Oh no,” Yaku mumbles, deadpan, as he stirs at tonight’s dinner in the pot. “How terrible. He knows what you are.”

 

“Hey!” Tetsurou grumbles to himself about mutiny and fake friends for a little bit, and then continues, “I'm a good student.” He may be pouting. Just a smidge.

 

Surprisingly, Yaku’s response to that is, “I know.” He starts transferring the food-- curry-- onto plates of rice for each of them. “But you look like a thug.”

 

Tetsurou takes the finished dishes and carries them to the table, and Yaku goes ahead and pulls a pitcher of water from the fridge. “I don't,” Tetsurou says.

 

“You do. Your hair’s a wild mess--”

 

“--not on purpose--”

 

“-- and you smirk like a cat that's caught the canary half the time, and also, you wear a… what. Fifty dollar fake leather jacket?  _ Even in the summer _ ,” Yaku lists, ticking each item off on his fingers.

 

Tetsurou can't… actually contest him on these, except for the last. “It wasn't fifty dollars--”

 

“Don't care,” Yaku interjects. He claps his hands together and says his thanks, and Tetsurou has no choice but to follow and do the same.

 

/////

 

“You know, Kuroo-kun,” starts one of his seatmates, three days later. Her name is Emily, and she's a transfer student from Singapore. “I thought you were some sort of gang member at first, but you're actually really sweet.”

 

“ _ What _ ?” Tetsurou can't believe this. First the professor for his organic chemistry, and now this? “Why?”

 

She shrugs. “You just seemed kinda… slick and dangerous, you know?”

 

She sure is fond of saying ‘you know’, Tetsurou notes to himself.

 

Mirai, another seatmate of theirs, chimes in, “Actually, I totally get that. I thought you were such a bad boy, but you're more like the bad boy with a heart of gold. Or the boy next door.”

 

“Ooh!” Emily squeals, high-pitched enough that Tetsurou winces. “I see that!”

 

“Right? He’s a dork, but it's really adorable!”

 

“You girls know I'm still here, right?” Tetsurou jokes. “And thanks…? I guess…?” He scratches at his jaw, sheepish. “I don't know if those were compliments.”

 

The girls giggle, but don't elaborate any further. Tetsurou resolves not to tell Yaku about this.

 

/////

 

**Three: He never forgets birthdays or anniversaries.**

 

/////

 

Tetsurou has a little calendar on his bedroom door, with every important date marked down on it. Test dates? Tournaments? Birthdays? All there. The calendar is pinned directly at eye level, that way whenever he wakes up, he sees it first thing, and if there's something going on, he remembers-- not that he really needs the reminder anymore. More often than not, as soon as he opens his eyes, if there's a birthday to be celebrated, he’s already running through his plans for the day. The reminders are just an additional precaution, really.

 

Today is Yaku’s birthday, he knows, and a glance at the aforementioned calendar proves him right.

 

He already has plans with the rest of the Nekoma team for a small surprise party, and he's taken the liberty of inviting a few of their other teammates and friends. 

 

He hopes it will go well.

 

/////

 

It goes great. Yaku jumps a little in surprise when he walks into what he's expecting to be an empty apartment only to find all the members of his high school team present-- and then some-- but after a little ranting about heart attacks and scaring people, he grins the widest Tetsurou’s ever seen him and thanks them all for coming.

 

“I can't believe you did all this,” Yaku says a while later, as they plop down onto the sofa to watch the movie the group picked (from Yaku’s favorites, of course-- Tetsurou has tissues ready for when he starts tearing up).

 

“Well believe it, Yakkun. It wasn't much anyway.” Tetsurou flaps a hand in dismissal, and when he slings an arm across the back of the couch, Yaku doesn't even hesitate to lean back against him. Tetsurou’s face flames, especially when he makes eye contact with an entirely too amused Oikawa, but he doesn't protest the contact.

 

Yaku elbows him in the gut. Relatively lightly, for Yaku, but it's enough to garner an ‘oof’ out of Tetsurou. “Don't be stupid. It means a lot to me. Dumbass.”

 

Tetsurou grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “We are married, you know.”

 

Yaku groans. “Can’t you let that go? For  _ one  _ day?” he complains, burying his face in his hands.

 

“You know the answer to that, Yakkun,” Tetsurou sniggers. He presses a kiss to the top of Yaku’s hair and pretends not to be severely embarrassed. Everyone else kindly pretends not to notice, though Tetsurou sees Inuoka soundlessly clapping his hands in glee. Cheeky kids. “Happy birthday,” he says.

 

And then because he's Tetsurou, and he needs to ruin it a little, he adds, “My wife.”

 

Yaku grabs his arm and flips him onto the floor.

 

/////

 

When it's just the two of them left, Yaku insists on helping Tetsurou clean up, despite the middle blocker’s protests that as the birthday celebrant, Yaku should just take it easy and relax.

 

“Thank you,” Yaku says again, as he ties up the last of the trash bags. 

 

Tetsurou dries his hands on a towel and starts putting away the dishes in their rightful cupboards. “I told you, Yakkun, it was no trouble. You don't need to keep thanking me.”

 

“I'm surprised you remembered. We’ve been so busy lately  _ I  _ forgot it was my birthday until my mom texted this morning.”

 

Tetsurou snorts. “Jeez, Yakkun.” He sobers up then, comes over to get the one bag Yaku can't hold, then goes and opens up the door for them both. “But trust me, busy or not, I wouldn't forget something so important.”

 

“It’s not really  _ that _ im--”

 

“Yakkun, birthdays are always a big deal.  _ You’re  _ a big deal.” (Under his breath, he says, “Figuratively, anyway.” Yaku is kind enough to feign ignorance.) They dump their trashbags where they belong, and then turn around to go back home. “Birthdays are about… letting people know they're valued, right? That you're happy they were born and are still alive. That's a big thing.” Tetsurou says this to the sky, trying in vain to pick out stars against Tokyo’s light pollution and smog. He doesn't face Yaku. “And you… you always put everyone else before yourself, Yaku. We wanted you to know we appreciate it--  _ you _ . We appreciate you.” 

 

Tetsurou knows he’s blushing. He must be. Yaku doesn't comment on it.

 

“Thanks, Kuroo,” he says instead. “And don't worry, this is the last time I’ll say it.”

 

Tetsurou laughs. When he reaches down to lace their fingers together, Yaku doesn't pull away.

 

/////

 

**Four: His greatest fear is that he’ll wind up alone all his life. (Fuck you too Kuroo, you're just as much a sap as I am.)**

 

/////

 

Tetsurou’s girlfriend breaks up with him. It isn't a  _ bad  _ breakup. Sure, it happens after a fight they have over something like priorities, but after they both cool off, they get together to talk about it at their place-- that wonky water fountain near the science building that can never decide what height the water should be; it's where they first met, and it's where they meet up whenever they have free periods between classes.

 

She says, “I like you a lot, Tetsu, and I know you like me too.” She doesn't say love. They both agreed that word was serious, and they’d save it for a special day. “But maybe that isn't enough.” Looks like they’ll never use it after all.

 

Tetsurou nods. He isn't sure what else to do. “I guess not. You want time and attention-- and I want to give it to you, but…”

 

“You wouldn't be you if you dropped everything just for me, Tetsu,” she finishes for him, smiling. “You’re dedicated to your dreams and your passions. It's one of the things I was so drawn to.”

 

Tetsurou feels like maybe he's in a really cliché romance movie-- the kind Yaku has a love-hate relationship with because they make him cry and he hates crying, but he also loves watching them play out because he's a softie at heart. This is the kind of thing they say, isn't it? When they break up in those movies?

 

But usually, it's to set up the protagonist to fall in love with someone else; someone who's a better fit for him. Tetsurou isn't entirely sure it's the same way for him.

 

“I'm sorry I got so caught up in it all.” Tetsurou takes her hands in his, and she lets him. Her eyes are shining with tears, but none fall. “You mean a lot to me. I'm sorry I made you feel like you didn't.”

 

She shakes her head. “That's not it. I just wanted more. I’m kinda greedy, you know that,” she jokes. She's shaking. Tetsurou pulls her close and wraps his arms around her instead, steadying her as much as he can-- physically, anyway.

 

“No,” he tells her. She isn't greedy, though sometimes he teases her by saying she is. “You’re not greedy. You just know what you deserve-- better.”

 

They stay like that for a few minutes, and then she pulls away. He doesn't try to hold her back. “Thanks for everything, Tetsurou.”

 

“Thank you, Tokine,” he says.

 

She smiles at him and holds a hand out. “Friends?”

 

He takes it. “Yeah.”

 

/////

 

They agree to take some space from each other for a while before really attempting friendship.

 

Tetsurou finds himself withdrawing, just a little. He stays home more often than he goes out with the group, stays in his room when Yaku is home. He spaces out during conversations and doesn't interject as much as he usually does.

 

Eventually, Yaku corners him and drags him out to a carnival that's in town. Yaku keeps them moving, forces Tetsurou to look at the here and now instead of inward, at the past and at himself.

 

They watch acrobats and firebreathers, ooh and aah at the feats they perform. They eat way too much sugar and fried shit, complaining about all the weight they'll put on after, laughing because they keep eating regardless. It's just too good. They play games that are almost certainly rigged-- ring toss and something with a ladder and that game where you have to squirt the target and fill up a meter. Tetsurou doesn't really know what the games are called. He doesn't really care.

 

He wins Yaku a single teddy bear and nothing else. He dubs it their child, and though Yaku goes approximately the shade of a tomato, Yaku lets him do it. “Fine. He's our kid. He needs a name then.”

 

Tetsurou’s laugh peters out. “Wait, really?” he asks, incredulous.

 

“Why not? You seem determined not to forget the married thing--”

 

“Why on earth would I do that? It's comedy gold.”

 

“--so if you can't beat them, join them, right?” Yaku shrugs. “Anyway. Name it.” He holds the stuffed toy out to Tetsurou. It's a small thing, about the size of one of Tetsurou’s hands, colored a funky neon green, with an equally neon pink ribbon tied around its neck.

 

“Who the fuck colored this thing,” Tetsurou mutters, scrunching up his nose.

 

Yaku laughs too. “I know right? They could have at least used a different ribbon.” He pokes at the bow.

 

“Let's name him Yoshi.”

 

Yaku bursts out giggling. “What? Like that little dino thing in Mario Kart?”

 

Tetsurou nods. “He's almost the same color,” he explains.

 

“No, no, no.” Yaku makes an ‘x’ with his arms, and even makes a little buzzer sound. Tetsurou raises an eyebrow at him. “They're not even close to the same shade of green!” Yaku protests. “Even  _ I _ know that!”

 

Tetsurou waves it off, absently linking his arm with Yaku’s and guiding him out of the carnival. He thinks maybe it's time they head home. “Whatever. That's his name now.”

 

Yaku rolls his eyes, but he accepts this with no further arguments. 

 

/////

 

“Thanks for today, Yakkun,” Tetsurou says, hanging up his coat. He reaches to slip his shoes off. “I had fun.”

 

“Me too,” Yaku admits, padding into the kitchen to prepare their nightly drinks. “Did it help you feel better?”

 

Tetsurou blinks. He knows, of course, that Yaku is aware of what’s bothering him, but neither of them had acknowledged it all week-- he had assumed they wouldn't acknowledge it at all. Apparently he’d been wrong to do that.

 

“Kuroo?”

 

Yaku’s voice draws him from his reverie, and Tetsurou tries for his usual crooked grin. “Kinda. I’ll just head to bed early so I can properly sort through my feelings and stuff.”

 

Yaku sits across from him at the dining table, sliding across a mug of tea for Kuroo to drink. His expression is stern. “You mean you're going to wallow,” he states. There's no contradicting him, Yaku’s tone says.

 

“Yakkun!” Tetsurou reels back, a hand splayed above his heart like he's offended, though he knows his friend can clearly see through his bullshit. (This is proven by the look Yaku sends his way). “I can't  _ believe  _ you’d accuse me of such a thing!”

 

“ _ Kuroo _ ,” Yaku warns.

 

Tetsurou sighs, sipping from his drink. It's fresh, so it scalds him a bit, but that's fine. He prefers it that way, really. “Okay, fine. You caught me.”

 

Yaku tilts his head at him. “Why? You didn't seem so broken up about losing her in particular… you liked Tokine, yeah, but…”

 

Tetsurou slumps back in his chair, staring at the cracked ceiling above him like it might give him answers. “I guess I just worry that I’ll grow old alone, you know? That seems… so sad.”

 

Yaku doesn't speak, so Tetsurou keeps going, “It’s always the same issues. I get too caught up in my ambitions, and they feel like they're competing for my time. Even when they can tell how much I care about them-- like Tokine did-- they want more that i can't give.” He throws an arm over his eyes, not because he's crying, but because he might, and he might as well be prepared. “I don't want to wind up by myself, for whatever reason. I know I’ll be fine on my own, but I just…”

 

Tetsurou jumps when he feels arms wrapping around him from behind. When had Yaku gotten there? “You won't be alone, idiot,” Yaku snaps, with little heat. It sounds almost tender. “You have me, and Kenma, and Bokuto… Kai, Akaashi… you have us, you know?”

 

“That's different,” Tetsurou says, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

 

“Well. Maybe for the others. Not for me-- I think you’ve known that for a while though.”

 

Tetsurou doesn't know what to reply to that. He  _ had  _ suspected, but he hadn't dared to hope… Thankfully, he doesn't have to say anything.

 

“We don't need to talk about it right now. It would be shitty of me to do that while you're low anyway,” Yaku tells him, squeezing him gently.

 

When Yaku releases him, Tetsurou goes to check the locks, and then he heads straight to bed. The next morning, things are back to normal, and neither of them discuss the previous night, or the confession that had taken place.

 

/////

 

**Five: He’s a great leader** .

 

/////

 

In one of the few classes Tetsurou and Yaku share, they wind up with a group project-- not much of surprise, really; this professor was very fond of groupworks. Their group, thankfully, is decent enough. Everyone's willing to do the work and meet up when necessary, so that's good. The problem is, they need someone to coordinate all the individual works and put them together, as well as be their representative when talking to the professor.

 

The group decides Tetsurou should do it, much to his confusion.

 

“Why are you so surprised?” Yaku asks, frowning at him. “You were team captain back in high school. You're a natural leader.”

 

“I. What?”

 

Another member of the group-- Masao, Tetsurou thinks his name was-- says, “Yeah man, back we were partners for that one lab, you really knew what you were doing. I would've been really confused if you hadn't helped me out.”

 

The others quickly speak up about what else they see in him-- his ability to remain calm, his analytical mind, his good sense to know when to joke and when to be stern. He’s left speechless. He knows he’s worked with each of them at least once before, but he hadn't realized they’d taken so much note of him.

 

“See?” Yaku says, nudging him forward. “Now go bring our proposal to the prof for approval.”

 

He goes.

 

/////

 

After that, Tetsurou finds himself chosen as a leader almost any chance the groups get to have one. It boggles his mind that so many different people can trust him so much, but even some of the classmates he doesn't get along with grudgingly admit that he’s good at what he does, and reliable to boot.

 

Yaku’s not surprised at all, and he keeps trying to get Tetsurou to just accept it, but he can't! It's just… it's unreal. It was one thing to be chosen as captain of a team he’s known for three years, but to lead this many different people…?

 

Yaku eventually starts hitting him when he starts trying to parse it out and understand it, so he stops, though the awe and shock never really go away.

 

/////

 

Tetsurou keeps the list-- tucks it away in a little album of memorabilia and photographs of their time in high school (No one can ever know about it, especially Yaku).

 

And when Yaku gets home, Tetsurou decides he’s plenty ready for this--  _ them _ \-- and kisses him soundly on the mouth.

 

Yaku kisses him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmu on tumblr and twitter @theauthorish !
> 
> If you wanna know how to request a fic of your own, please see my pinned tweet. ♡


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